Slow Delivery

Outdoors they drift beneath a molten canopy of flame,
Her loose top flows like a whisper of dawn’s breath, leggings a serpent’s coil on her frame,
His jeans a taut forge of denim, t-shirt a banner in the sun’s wild game.
Others blur into ghosts, swallowed by the day’s untamed sea,
On a bench carved by time’s teeth, they alight unseen,
His hands voyage to her mound, a hidden hill of honeyed green,
She stiffens, a shiver racing, her breath a startled fawn unseen.

Her thighs unfurl like lotus blooms in a fevered pond,
A furnace flares in her gaze, twin embers of want unbound,
Pressure mounts, his touch a river chiseling stone to frond,
Motion a sculptor’s blade, her lips part, a soft moan crowned.
She spies his jeans, a ridge swelling like a coiled beast,
Her core clenches, a greedy pulse beneath her skin’s veil,
Then he withdraws, a tide abandoning its hive,
She gasps, a whimper of loss, her eyes blaze, wild and frail.

In the car, he stoops, lips a tempest claiming her shore,
A kiss that brands, she melts, her tongue a moth to his forge,
His hand snakes beneath her leggings, a thief at the door,
Past knickers’ damp sentinels, her hips buck, a plea to gorge.
Fingers plunge like divers into her coral abyss,
She writhes, a keening cry, her nails dig into the seat,
She’s a volcano’s edge, lava kissing the abyss,
He halts, “Drive,” he commands—she trembles, rage and heat.

The road roars, a black ribbon threading dusk’s loom,
His words fall like embers, her chest heaves, a frantic drum,
Each breath a bellows, she hungers, a flower torn from bloom,
Her eyes catch his jeans, erection a spear—she bites her thumb.
A desert thirsting, she squirms, her leggings chafe her ache,
His bulge taunts, her voice cracks, “Hurry,” a desperate plea,
Whispers weave lust’s brash clash, her resolve begins to break,
Hotel lights flare, she grips the wheel, a storm desperate to be free.

In the room, her need roars, a lioness unchained,
She lunges, eyes feral, craving their skins to spark,
He lures her to the shower, a siren’s refrain,
Steam cloaks her, she purrs, her body a taut, quivering arc.
His hands glide, soap sculpts her joyish vale, she moans low,
Fingers tease like moths, her knees buckle, a pleading sigh,
She arches, a bowstring taut, begging the final blow,
He stops, she growls, a snarl of want, her patience run dry.

Towels shed, she sprawls, a banquet on sheets of snow,
Legs flare like wings, she beckons, a queen in flushed command,
He kneels, lips a pilgrim at her altar’s flow,
She arches, a guttural cry, her hands claw at the strand.
Before she shatters, he mounts, a stallion in the fray,
Thrusts deep, she screams, a banshee loosed in primal din,
She erupts, a starburst fracturing night to day,
Her spasms hurl him, a wild mare bucking free from sin.